


Pilots Have Talented Fingers

by Pink_and_Velvet



Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bedroom Antics, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Insults, M/M, Tickle Fights, best of the best, handjobs, pinning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:54:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22845148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet
Summary: Pete may not be the picky about it but when Tom’s at his back, underneath him, who was he to complain?He still would though.
Relationships: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Pilots Have Talented Fingers

**Author's Note:**

> I’m back! Sorry that it’s been so damn long and I’ve been looming about this fandom without having really been active in it. 
> 
> This is also a little different than anything I think I’ve written for IceMav before. Apologies if it isn’t the right fit, I’m sorta out of it.

The tickle fight was bordering on violent, Tom was laughing so hard that he even raised both hands in surrender. He gave into the the flush of Pete’s cheeks and glimmer of his mystical green eyes.

They had been rolling around for what felt like hours, not that they hadn’t enjoyed their time. The sheets had been ripped, tossed and tangled around them: their limbs dancing, rutting against them mercilessly.

Pete had managed to pin him, which led to Tom’s head lolling back into the rumpled pillows, blonde hair skewed and dropping into his eyes.

“What are you going to do with me, Mitchell?” He chuckled, feigning his fear.

Pete leant down, looming into his space. He regarded the icy gaze, the warm grin and the erratic rises and falls of his bare chest: the little red spots where his skin was beginning to flush. He truly was gorgeous, be it doused in sweat droplets or not, lying back and taking in every inch of Pete’s own body on show.

“Lemme think about it.” Pete mused, cocking his head.

His eyes never left Tom’s panting form as his fingers traipsed lower, gaining in speed. He was tickling Tom again, who laughed and bucked into his touch. Maybe he was trying to buck Pete off but he didn’t exactly have the upper hand in that moment; not that he didn’t want that hot little sun kissed body draping atop his own.

Tom laughed, kicked and rocked the bed. Wherever Mitchell’s torturous touch went, Tom’s own body would follow. His skin was lit aflame under the ministrations; the ticklish fingers quickly proving too much for Tom as again he threw his head back in pitiful defeat.

“Mav... shit, Maverick!”

Tom had to cut himself off, his groan was ripped from his throat. He had been laughing so hard, screwing his eyes shut so tight that he couldn’t properly register where Pete’s fingers were: how fast they were teasing; how hot his skin was atop of Tom’s own.

Pete’s rough hands had manoeuvred themselves down south, fingers prying and spreading. Tom was leaning into it; bottom lip trembling as he tried to steady his pulse. He let Pete in, he wanted nothing more but to clench the hot ring of muscle around those powerful fingers.

He was laughing with mirth, hips bucking, as he could hear Pete talking to him again. His voice was rough, dropping little threats and curses.

“Christ Ice, you’re tight!”

“Fuck, Mav! You’re gonna… you’re gonna be the death of me, someday.”

Tom was almost growling, hazel eyes now screwing themselves shut.

“On the ground, at least.”

He tried, Tom really did, but the deeper Pete went the more he found himself chuckling then moaning, hips twisting up and buckling into his heat. Those hands were everywhere, opening him up and spreading him wide.

“Motherfucker, Pete… Mav, where did you learn this shit?”

“Learn what shit, Kazansky?”

“This, you asshole!” He croaked out.

Tom nodded profusely, he couldn’t say anymore.

He took in Pete’s sly grin as it inched across his lips. “I’m a pilot, you dickhead. We have talented fingers.”

“You had the best teacher, as always.” Tom grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

“Sure did.”

“Cock sure fuck.” He rasped. “D-down there.”

Pete just rolled his eyes. “Works better when somebody else does it to you, Kazansky.”

“No shit.”

Pete grinned, the sexy little grin that only unveiled itself in sexy little times like this: with Tom. Pete with his Tom. Maverick with his Iceman.

Pete picked up his pace, feeling the clenching of Tom’s inner walls increasing: the pace driving them both wild. With his free hand, Pete clasped at Tom: yanking him in time with his prying his fingers.

Those pesky digits egged him on, twisting and turning, inching further inside. Tom was groaning, spewing curses and threats for those fingers to move faster, to ram into him quicker and deeper.

It didn’t take him long as he was spilling onto Pete’s fingers which just gripped him harder and tugged him through it. By now his laughter had graduated to groans and curses, the beating of his heart was pounding in his ears, blood thrumming in his veins so fast that he was ever so close to whiting out completely. Usually he could hold himself together much better, much colder, but at the strokes began to lessen: Tom’s body curled into his touch, jolting before he fell back into the mattress with a thud.

“Shit.. that was.. something new. Christ.” Tom panted, his tones anything but icy.

“New, Kazansky?”

“Yeah, from you anyways.”

Pete still loomed over him: his hair was skewed and a faint sheen of sweat was covering his chest. He snaked a hand up to grab him, to tug him down into a breathless kiss. Melting into his touch, their lips moulded together as he swallowed every breath Tom could muster.

Feeling his need for air heighten, Tom reluctantly broke away and chuckled as the smaller body rolled itself to his side. He sighed lowly at the feeling of those beautiful fingers caressing his sides, forcing Tom to roll over. He didn’t say it right then and there but it sure was a nice change to be the little spoon: all six feet of him being enveloped by Pete’s smaller, supportive frame.

Tom was groaning wild again in moments, having pressed himself back: now flush up against Pete.

“Think you can take more than just fingers now, do you Iceman?” Tom could hear his special little smirk perfectly crafted for their special little times together like this.

Tom rested his head in his hand and cast his gaze back over his tanned shoulder.

“Bring it, if you can last long enough, Maverick.” He barked, with his statement snigger and scoff.

Pete didn’t need to be told twice.

**Author's Note:**

> My 100th fanfic posted on here. It’s been seven mere months. Goddamn!


End file.
